


Are they freaking kidding me?

by ShinMeiko



Series: What if multiverse [8]
Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli, Simonverse | Creekwood Series - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 06:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19883185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinMeiko/pseuds/ShinMeiko
Summary: Bram is getting over Simon thinking he was Cal Price. But now Simon is about to make the same mistake again, and Garrett is not ready to live through that awkwardness.Spin-off from Garrett's POV from 'Chapter 23 - What if Simon wore the shirt sooner?' in my 'what if' series.





	Are they freaking kidding me?

**Author's Note:**

> An extra chapter on this one, just because it was fun to write.

I enter the room, and it’s just pathetic. Bram is lying in his bed, looking – nah, staring – at his ceiling. There isn’t a trace of on-going homework on his desk and his dirty clothes from the last practice are on the floor. Let me rephrase that. His room is untidy, and it’s not because of an ongoing school project.

“Bram, what the hell are you doing?”

“Feeling sorry for myself.”

“Okay, no. No, no, no. We’ve got enough of that. Get your sorry ass out of this bed. Let’s go for a walk.”

“No, I’m good. I’m sure there are a couple of things I can feel sorry for that I haven’t thought about yet.”

Gosh, can he be a drama queen. But fine. If you can’t bring the mountain to Mohammed…

I walk straight to his bed and I lie next to him. It is a single bed, and he is lying in the middle of it, so I am half lying on top of him. But the point is to take him out of his comfort zone, so it’s kind of perfect.

“Garrett, what are you doing?”

“Looking at your ceiling. Apparently, it holds all the secrets of the universe.” Bram doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even try to kick me out of his bed, and that scares me somewhat. “Bram… you can’t keep this up. You’ve been moody for weeks, and…”

“He doesn’t want me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I never pushed him down a corridor on a rolling chair.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It means that Simon is into Cal Price.”

“Cal Price? The skinny dude from drama club?”

“The one and only.”

“You’re hotter.”

“No, I’m not. I’m the weird kid from lunch that doesn’t even talk to him.”

“And who’s fault is that? Look, Bram… if you want Spier, go get him. Drama Boy has nothing on you.”

“He has Simon.”

“He doesn’t. And even if he does… it’s just a boy, man. You know, many fish in the sea and all of that.”

“He’s not just a boy. I told him things I don’t even tell you. I thought we had something special. I thought… It doesn’t matter what I thought, because it wasn’t true.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know what they emailed about, I don’t know if Simon is into Cal Price, I don’t know how much Bram likes him. Probably a lot, because he seems properly broken-hearted.

So I try to change the subject.

“Bram?”

“Yes?”

“Why isn’t ‘fishes’ the plural of ‘fish’?” And for the first time in days, he laughs. God does that feel good.

After twenty minutes of small talk, he finally kicks me out of his bed and sits up. It’s a start. Baby steps.

“Garrett, I need to ask you something, and I need you to not be my best friend when you answer it. I need you to be objective, impartial and honest.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it.”

“I said sure. I’ll tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. For instance, those new jeans of yours… they’re not a good choice. It makes your ass look asymmetrical.”

“What?”

“Asymmetrical means…”

“Yes,” he interrupts me, “I know what asymmetrical means. Why would you mention that? And it does not.”

“It does, and I’m showing you that I can be truthful to you, regardless of your baby bird feelings.” I know that at this point I’m mainly babbling, but I’m just desperate to see Bram happy again, and I have no idea how to help him. How do you even fix a broken heart?

I’m just lucky Bram sees through that rambling, douche side of me.

“Okay, let’s not talk about my ass. Like, ever again.”

“Deal. So… what do you want me to be honest about?”

“Realistically… do I have a shot with Simon?”

My first instinct is to answer ‘yes, absolutely’, but I swallow back the words. I’m not his best friend right now, and he doesn’t want me to reassure him. He wants the truth. And that wouldn’t be that. So instead, I say: “Not if you keep doing nothing.” Bram’s breath quickens a bit. “Look, Bram… you’re my best friend. So, obviously, I believe that you’re a catch. I really think that Spier could fall for you. If you talked to him, if you fought for him, he would totally fall for you. Actually, from what I gathered from your mysterious, secret emails, I’m pretty convinced that if you walked to him and said “I’m the guy you’ve been emailing”, he’d fall in your arms just there and then. But he can’t fall in love with you just because. And he can’t develop a crush on you simply because you want him to.”

Bram nods. He looks determined. He looks like he made up his mind. I’m not sure which way, though.

“Do you remember the T-shirt place you told me about?” he asks. “The one that has all of the music stuff?”

“I do.”

“Can you take me there?”

“Sure. But… How did this conversation trigger a clothes-shopping spree?”

“I need to find something for Simon. I… if I find what I’m looking for without the internet, it will be a sign. That maybe we don’t need the Internet anymore. It will be fate.”

I don’t really believe in signs or fate. I don’t tell him that though. First, because he’s getting out of the house. Second, because he’s fighting for what he wants. I’m sure that’s how Mushu felt when Mulan started being a badass.

I don’t really believe in signs or fate. But right now I’m being tested on that. We had to park somewhere other than my usual spot and as we are walking toward the shop, we arrive at a crossroad where the crossings have been replaced by giant rainbows. As in gay flag rainbows.

We stop on the pavement and stare at it for a couple of minutes. I don’t know which one of us is the most surprised. “Didn’t you say you were looking for a sign?”

“I did,” he agrees.

“If you don’t find whatever you’re looking for, you still can’t chicken out. You got your sign.”

“Is that street art?” he asks.

I am almost ashamed to admit that I don’t know. I Google it. “No, actually. It’s from the city.”

“What for?”

I keep reading and that’s when things aren’t funny anymore. “Tribute to the pulse victims.” We pause for a moment, looking at that display which is now halfway between hope and despair.

“I’m a baby,” Bram says.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fine. I’m a coward.”

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. It’s not like I’ve asked my crush out, and I wouldn’t even have to go through the whole coming out process.”

“Still. Even if it’s not perfect here, it’s way worse in other places, isn’t it? I shouldn’t be that afraid of coming out.”

“Bram… The Pulse shooting happened in our country. That’s the world we live in. I’m not telling you to not come out, or to be afraid. When you do come out, and you get the boy of your dreams, Spier or someone else, I know you’ll be so blissfully happy. But I don’t want you to undermine what you’re feeling. You came out to your parents. You came out to me. Your world didn’t change, but it could have. We’ve all heard stories of people who have been kicked out of their homes because of it, or sent to conversion therapy. You took that leap of faith, and you ended up alright. That doesn’t mean that you have to take your second leap of faith right now.”

Bram stops looking at the rainbow and he’s looking at me instead. He has this weird look on his face and I’m wondering if I didn’t say something completely stupid. “Okay… how cliché was I?”

“You weren’t,” Bram answers. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“How I do what?”

“Manage to push me to move forward while telling me it’s alright to be nervous about it.”

“Are you calling me bipolar?”

Bram has a soft laugh, and that feels like a win again. “No. I’m saying that I’m grateful that you understand where I’m coming from, but you don’t let me build walls around my comfort zone.”

“I don’t know if I understand, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully understand, but I try. And your comfort zone… I think I’d let you build a fortress around it if you were happy there. But ‘happy’ isn’t a word I would use to describe you lately.”

We look at each other, and it’s a bit weird. It’s emotional, there are a lot of people around, we’re in front of the biggest gay flag I’ve ever seen. None of us is very good with emotional stuff in public. But it feels like we’re having a moment, so I embrace the awkwardness. After a few seconds, Bram shoves me with his shoulder and we get moving.

Bram doesn’t show me what he found, but it’s clear from his face that he found the T-shirt of his dreams. Of Simon’s dreams?

I don’t really care about the shirt. I care about the happy, proud, hopeful look on Bram’s face. That makes me so happy. I feel like I achieved something today.

I always know exactly when Spier enters the cafeteria. It’s always when Bram goes quiet. I mean, it’s Bram, he’s always sort of quiet, but there is a special kind of quiet whenever Spier is around. If it didn’t keep Bram from winning the boy over, it would be endearing.

Today though, there is a weird vibe coming from Bram, even for a lunch with Spier. There is something in the way he looks at him. That’s when Burke says: “It’s not the shirt you were wearing this morning,” and I get it. She sounds worried, which makes sense, Simon has been bullied for being gay, and I would be checking on him too, if I didn’t know another reason he could have for changing shirt.

Such as getting a present from Bram. Does that mean that Bram finally told Simon who he is? Probably not. He would have told me if something that massive happened in his life. Then what? How did he give the shirt to Spier? I’ll ask Bram when it’s just the two of us.

There is something else that bothers me with Simon’s new shirt. I know I’ve seen that design somewhere. It feels like it’s just on the verge of coming back to me. All of a sudden, it comes back to me. As the table is quiet, I ask: “Figure 8, right?”

“Yes,” Spier answers, visibly surprised.

“Cool.”

I have no idea why Bram would get Simon a T-shirt with some street art mural on it, or what it means to the two of them, but that’s a question I won’t ask. I know the line between curious and nosey, and it’s their shit.

But it’s like the email thing. What are they emailing about? I am the kind of person who’s bored after three texts, so I don’t really understand the pen pal thing. I guess they are discussing things they can only share with one another, but there can’t be that many gay topics to talk about, can it?

And if they are not just talking about that, if they became proper friends, why are they not taking it offline?

Stupid question. I know why. Because Bram is 90% water, 8% awesomeness and 2% stress.

I really hope he gets Simon. Maybe that’ll drop the stress level to 1%.

Soooo… I might be making this up – I really hope I’m making this up – but Simon is looking at me weirdly, lately. Like he’s expecting something from me. It’s not as much how is looking at me as how _often_ he’s looking at me. It’s way more than it used to be.

That makes me extremely uncomfortable. Not because of the gay thing. I’d be flattered to be hit on by anyone, and I guess I’d rather have a smart dude interested in me than a pretty girl with an awful personality. Like Taylor. Good luck to whoever will be crazy enough to marry her and be bossed around for the rest of his life. Or her life. I don’t know what Taylor’s into.

Yeah, Simon’s great, and he's funny, and I’m really not attracted to guys, but I’m also not entirely closed off to the idea of trying either, you know? What I’m totally closed off about, is the idea of Simon. Because he’s Bram’s.

Things get weirder one lunchtime though. Bram leaves his bag with me to go to the toilets. I’m talking to Nick, and Simon is on his phone. Apparently messaging someone. When Simon puts his phone away, Bram’s phone, in Bram’s bag, next to _not Bram_ , rings. Simon freezes and looks at me. I try my best to ignore it. Bram is going to come back, I’ll give the bag to Bram and things will fall into place.

It might even nudge them in the right direction.

But Simon sends another text. The phone rings again. And Simon looks at me like he understood something. Which he clearly didn’t. I keep talking to Nick as if nothing happened, but I’m starting to panic a bit. I need Bram here ASAP.

Simon asks, “Guy, what do you think about the new lunch lady?”

People answer random stuff, and I just say “Like it’s probably not safe to eat here anymore. I mean… she seems nice enough, but it’s also like she never had any training on health and safety.”

And Simon looks at me like he understood something. Which he clearly didn’t.

Simon leaves the table before Bram comes back.

Now… that is NOT how things are supposed to play out. I Simon guesses wrong, I can handle that, and I think I can pull Bram through again. But if Simon guesses _me_ , there is no way Bram and I could navigate that sea of awkwardness and come out the same. I’m pretty sure Bram hates Cal Price right now, even though the kid is actually decent.

Bram is at my house when he gets an email. I recognize the secret-email-notification-sound. I know they’re texting now, not only because of the lunch incident, and I think it’s sweet that they’re still emailing.

Bram’s hand shakes a bit for a second. “There’s another list,” he whispers. I’m not even sure he realized he said that out loud. Another list. As in an ‘I know who you are’ kind of list?

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. No. I need to kill that before Bram reads it, I need to grab the phone, talk to him, delete the email… _Something_.

But the happiest smile I’ve ever seen spreads on his face. “He knows!”

I, for one, know for a fact that he doesn’t know. I’m not sure how long that list is, but I feel extremely lucky that I have that many things in common with Bram. I smile at Bram, and I tell him, “See, I told you you could get the boy!”

But internally, I’m freaking out. I need to find Spier. Soon. Tomorrow before class.

I grab him on his way to his locker and I pull him in an empty classroom. He looks at me with a weird look on his face that I need to kill. His eyes fall on my lips and I need to kill it _right now_. “Spier… You are an inch away for screwing everything up.”

“What?”

“I am _not_ who you think I am.” Simon’s eyes close for a second and when he opens them again, it almost seems as if he is… relieved? If he weren’t meant for Bram, I would be offended. Spier technically could do worse than me.

I see on his face that he understands that I am not Bram. But he sees to need a bit more help for the idea to properly sink in.

“How do you know about Elliott Smith?”

“Who?”

“My shirt.”

“What shirt?”

“The figure 8 one.”

“Oh. It’s a mural, in LA. I’m following this street artist on Instagram, and he was on the team that restored the design a few years back.”

“Oh.” He looks confused, and then he doesn’t. I think he’s on the verge of understanding, but I need to make sure. I need to make it crystal clear in his mind.

“Okay, listen carefully, because I’m about to betray the one person I thought I never would. And he can never know I did.” I wait for him to nod before carrying on. “I saw you connecting dots wrong, and I sort of hoped that you would realize soon enough, but you really are as clueless as everyone says. Which I guess is endearing, but we are _SO_ lucky that your little list fits the both of us. I don’t think he could have handled you guessing wrong a second time. He was so happy when he received your list. I don’t know what was on that list because I can know about the emails, but I can’t know what’s in them. I’m just so relieved that you managed to find a list of similarities between the two of us. But, again… I am not who you think I am.”

“Because it’s Bram,” he finishes, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved in my life. He guessed right, and I didn’t have to spell it out for him. I am only half a traitor.

“Because it’s Bram,” I confirm. “Do whatever you want with that information but please, please, don’t let him know that you guessed wrong. Or if you do, don’t let him know that you guessed _me_.”

Simon nods again. I know we’ll tell Bram eventually. Just not now. We’ll do that when the two of them are secure in their relationship, or when they are broken up. Not when things can still go awry. Not as long as Bram can decide to let stress tell him what to do.

I’m about to leave the room when I add: “I know that you don’t know him that well because he’s so quiet all the time, but… He is a great guy. Maybe the best person I know, actually. I’m not sure what you plan to do, but… if you give him a chance, you won’t regret it.”

“I’m sure I won’t.” His voice is robotic, and I can’t really tell if he means it or not. It doesn’t look promising.

I am halfway through the door when I hear: “But… wait… “Garrett?”

“Yeah?”

“How is he a president?”

“What?”

“Bram… how does he share a name with a president?”

“What the hell were you two emailing about? Nope, wait, don’t answer that. Bram is short for our beloved sixteenth president’s first name.” Yes, I know all our presidents in order. History’s my bitch.

But, seriously, what the hell is in those emails?

Are they freaking kidding me?

It’s been days. Simon knows it’s Bram. Bram knows it’s Simon. They are apparently still texting, and Bram seems happy. Like he finally dropped to 1% stress level. If they know who the other one is, if they are into each other, and if they are mostly out, why isn’t any of them making a move?

I know it’s not really any of my business, but it’s driving me crazy. At lunch, I really want to just… make them hold hands, push Bram on Simon’s lap, hold their faces against one another’s… or something else equally inappropriate that would just get this shit starting.

I guess I just want to see Bram live a little. Get out of his comfort zone and be happy in the real world rather than in the pretend world they created together.

In his own time, I know.

But it’s still very frustrating.

Thursday evening, I get a call from Bram.

“Abraham, isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“That was the most patronizing sentence you ever said.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“You’re right. Remember the aquarium?” I smile at that. “Anyway, I’m calling to tell you that I can take you to school tomorrow morning, but I won’t be able to give you a ride home.”

“That’s fine, I’ll get a ride from James.” And then I wait. I’m dying to know, but I also know he’s dying to tell me, so I make him work for it.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“Do you want to tell me why?”

“Not anymore.”

“Fine. Bram, why on Earth wouldn’t you be able to take me home tomorrow afternoon?”

“I have a date.” My heart just explodes. Like… I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy when I scored a date.

“Please tell me it’s Spier.”

“It is.”

“Get in there, Greenfeld! Nice job! Who asked the other one?”

“I think I did.”

“You _think_?”

“Well… I asked him to come with me somewhere, he asked if it was a date, and it wasn’t, but then it was. Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely not. Where are you taking him?”

“To see the rainbow.”

“Right. Because there is nothing more romantic than commemorating a mass shooting.”

“You think it’s a bad idea?” He sounds nervous.

“No, I think it’s great. At this point, meaningful is probably better than romantic. Plus, it’s not the whole date, is it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then you’re good. Remember to bring condoms.”

“Why are we friends again?”

We are friends because Bram Greenfeld is a sort of wise man who can somehow see through my BS.

We are friends because Bram Greenfeld it the best person I know. I’m just so happy that Spier sees it too.


End file.
